


Bed Manner

by HitanTenshi



Series: Bedside Manner [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Iruka POV, Land of Waves Arc, M/M, Past Mizuki/Umino Iruka, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HitanTenshi/pseuds/HitanTenshi
Summary: Ibiki, people-reader that he is, always seems to know when Iruka needs warmth and affection most.





	Bed Manner

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short follow-up scene to the previous work in the series.

Ibiki had been right that Naruto had practically imprinted on him. In the weeks that follow and extend into months, Iruka finds many of his trips to Ichiraku’s accompanied by a hyperactive genin with a smile like the sun. Iruka wouldn’t have it any other way.

On the evenings when he isn’t funding Naruto’s meals, however, Iruka keeps other company. Namely, one resident torture expert. Most people would stop at that title and scurry for the hills rather than let such a man into their home, let alone their heart, but Ibiki had invited Iruka to see underneath the underneath (to borrow a phrase from Naruto’s new jounin-sensei). In reality, Ibiki is much more tender than his superficial austerity lets on. He’s like a large stuffed animal, really: all warm hugs and soft touches. Iruka thinks the gentleness might smother him sometimes, but maybe he wouldn’t mind.

The rebound phase has settled into a comfortable companionship that Iruka doesn’t want to give up. Thankfully, neither does Ibiki. Each kiss and caress is as genuine as the last — it’s one of the features that keeps drawing Iruka back.

And Ibiki, people-reader that he is, always seems to know when Iruka needs that warmth and affection most. So, when Naruto’s team has been gone in the Land of Waves for much longer than that C-Rank had stipulated without so much as a note, Iruka’s worry must be radiating off of him in, well, waves. And it is, therefore, no surprise that Iruka finds an evening of his nervous pacing interrupted by strong arms that catch him in a loose hug.

“You’ll work yourself up into a state,” Ibiki points out.

“I’m _already_ worked up into a state,” Iruka quips. “What if they’re lost? Or injured!? Or—”

Ibiki cups his face in large, calloused hands. Iruka has figured out that this is one of Ibiki’s tactics to make eye contact with him during a conversation, but it makes him feel small and fragile.

“It’s out of your hands,” Ibiki enunciates, like he’s expecting Iruka to repeat it back to him.

“I know it is,” Iruka concedes with a groan. “But that just makes me worry more!”

Ibiki kisses the tip of his nose. “Well, why don’t we make some tea, put _two_ spoonfuls of honey in yours, and then find something else to distract you?”

Because effort should be acknowledged, and because Iruka thinks he might suffer a nervous breakdown  if he keeps fretting over Naruto much longer, he takes the bait. “Something else, or _someone_ else?”

Ibiki grins at that. “Well, there’s no one else here but me. Will I do?”

“Will you do what?”

“Mm… _you_ , for starters.”

“Oh my, Ibiki-san.” But he loops his arms behind Ibiki’s head and pulls the big man down for a proper kiss. “By all means, distract me.”

Tea will have to be saved for later, it seems, because Ibiki’s hands move down to Iruka’s thighs and, without much warning, lift him up, so that Iruka has to wrap his legs around Ibiki’s waist to keep his balance. With how much muscle Iruka has felt under Ibiki’s skin, it’s clear the tokujou has no difficulty keeping him aloft without a wall or other hard surface to press him against. And Iruka does appreciate not being pressed to a wall, because his back still likes to flare up at the worst moments. But Ibiki is always careful, always gentle.

Their first few times together had involved many stops and starts, whenever some little thing had sparked a memory of Mizuki. Iruka had carried a dread low in his stomach at bringing someone else into the bed Mizuki had more than once chained him to, gagged and blindfolded, for fun. But Ibiki understands, talks him through what he wrestles with, promises him he won’t judge him for hesitating. Surely, Iruka tells himself, he doesn’t deserve someone so patient and thoughtful. Whenever he tries to voice something to this measure, however, Ibiki is quick to correct him, to tell him that the thought itself is a lie Mizuki had planted there. That Iruka deserves to be happy no less so than anyone else. And it’s that reassurance which has finally won the day.

With hesitation only an afterthought, Iruka’s fingers run up and down Ibiki’s clothed back. Not hard enough to leave marks, but enough, Iruka is confident, to encourage Ibiki to take the next step.

Their kisses grow in fervor as Ibiki carries him to bed and deposits him there, careful not to put too much weight on him. Iruka could choose to grumble in being treated as if he’s made of glass, but he chooses instead to revel in being _cherished_ , because Mizuki had never given him that.

Ibiki makes quick work of their shirts, leaving them in a heap to one side of the bed, but he takes his time with Iruka’s lounge pants. Not for lack of ease, given the drawstring tie, but for the entertainment of gauging Iruka’s impatience. It’s a game they’ve played before, and Iruka knows that, underneath the teasing, Ibiki is giving him every opportunity to pause or stop what’s happening if he relives some Mizuki-centric moment, but right now? He’s just plain impatient.

“If you don’t get on with it, Ibiki-san,” he says, surprising himself by how calm he sounds, considering the excitement battering his chest in anticipation, “I’m going to fall asleep here.”

Ibiki grins, and Iruka’s heart does an extra flip. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Two good tugs shucks Iruka: pants, boxers, and all. Somehow, Iruka finds the sudden change of pace most amusing, because he’s giggling by the time Ibiki crawls up his naked form for another kiss. As hungry as Iruka is for what’s to come, there’s enjoyment, too, in the feel of Ibiki’s trouser seam rubbing against him. The rolls of Ibiki’s hips are steady, neither fast nor slow but altogether unrelenting. What self-control Ibiki must have, because Iruka feels like he’s on the edge by the tips of his fingers, his grip of Ibiki’s shoulders all that keeps him from plummeting.

“Please,” and he gasps, his fingers digging deeper into the muscle of Ibiki’s upper back. He can feel Ibiki’s smirk against the side of his neck.

“Please _what_ , sensei?”

_There’s_ the interrogator peeking through Ibiki’s softness. That he feels a need to egg Iruka to speak his desires aloud — Iruka laughs between pants. For economy of breath, he adjust the nestle of their faces so that his lips are against Ibiki’s ear.

“Please, finish what you’ve started… and give me what you damn well know I want.

Ibiki laughs, too, presumably at his circuitous phrasing, but then Ibiki’s lips are on his again, and Iruka loses what breath he has left. In that daze, he feels Ibiki shift above him, breaking contact for what feels like entirely too long before making good on what he’d offered.

Afterward — when they’re sated and showered and snuggled under Iruka’s finally-slept-in covers, Ibiki still finds ways to distract him from his worrying. His touches are soft and soothing, his whispers equally so.

It’s a moment when Iruka truly believes that he can have this, that he _can_ be happy. Those moments used to be so rare, but under Ibiki’s care, they have flourished. The realization makes something so clear to Iruka that he can’t understand why he didn’t notice it before.

“What are you thinking about?” asks Ibiki.

And, having noticed it, Iruka decides that he can’t keep the revelation to himself.

“I was thinking… that I love you.” After a moment without response, a trickle of anxiety seeps in. “Is it too soon for me to be thinking things like that?”

Iruka thinks he could melt under the warmth of Ibiki’s smile. “No, it’s not. Because, as it so happens… I love you, too.”


End file.
